Aim, Don't Fire
by Sombereyes
Summary: A soft melancholy befell her, as heavy breath slipped from her lips, and tears trickled down from her eyes. The tightness in her chest wouldn't go away, and she wished, just for a moment, the man who'd endured hell with her, would come around the corner, and lean heavily on the wall. -One shot.-


A/N: A quick little one shot for a series that I really liked back in it's older days.

I do not own Resident Evil.

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**Aim, Don't Fire.**

She knew what happened to a body. She'd seen the notes written in ledgers, and scribbled in covers of newspapers. The photographs were evidence no one dared to look at, and the video tapes were things that made anyone want to vomit. She understood the slow, sickening madness, that seemed to rot the mind as well as the flesh. She could even comprehend the ideals behind the science.

She was not a daft woman, nor was she unable to grasp hold of the implications. It was however, a rueful truth, that she was young. Her age, and her status, reflected that she was a newcomer on a force of people who were experts. The members of S.T.A.R.S. were to be well respected. She hadn't much to show for herself, not even her many honors, and certificate saying she passed all of her classes would save here now.

If this wasn't applied learning, she didn't know what was.

Still, there was only so much learning one could do with a gun, and her journey had taken her far enough now, that when she turned back, she could clearly see each step. She just couldn't help that every step she took, landed in a pool of blood, where god only knew what waited to grow next. The bowels of hell would have been a joyride, compared to this...in fact, she began to wonder, day in and day out, why she continued to try to survive, in world that was so covered in decay.

Hope was a fleeting trinket, a key that no one would think to use. A ribbon to record, that which should never be spoken. It was only fueled onward by how many bullets could be found in a desk, or sitting idly on a dead body...it was as dire as grinding leaves into a paste, in which to smear on open wounds. It was a sad day, when the nearest thing a person had to a proper weapon, was a sordid little story about cutlery, or possibly a vase to smash upon some deranged creature.

Still, that had been what she had been reduced to. A mess of hopes and dreams that would never come to fruition. Somehow, she'd always known it would come to this, but inwardly, she never thought it would be this soon. As she faced what could only be her worse fathomable dream, she found that even her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She knew, she was not in the warmth of her bed, and her covers were not wrapped tightly around her. She was not safe, and her blood ran chillingly cold. She was wide awake, and the bile slipping from the creature's lips, was corrosive, and deadly.

At first, she could not believe it, as she saw the staggering monster.

She closed her eyes, and licked her lips, the barrel of her gun shining in the dim light. She's taken down countless numbers of these guys before, but this one? she found herself struggling to even think of it. A soft melancholy befell her, as heavy breath slipped from her lips, and tears trickled down from her eyes. The tightness in her chest wouldn't go away, and she wished, just for a moment, the man who'd endured hell with her, would come around the corner, and lean heavily on the wall.

She wished to see his lips pull into a smug grin, just like he did, the first time they shared words. She'd give anything to hear his footfalls, more like a human, and keeping a steady pace beside her. She even missed the rattling sounds of his handcuffs, that hung loosely on his wrist. She was running out of bullets, and the knife she had wouldn't save her...hell, it wouldn't even give her comfort.

Three bullets left.

There were reminders of old teammates and times long gone, all over the forested area, that sheltered horrendous truths. Crimes that were committed, were not ones to be taken lightly, and she'd already let one go...she grasped onto the dog tags around her neck...the ones that were his, and licked her lips, gathering her courage as the monster she faced down, began to force itself to rise again.

It drooled, spit dripping from it's chin as it's lips, dried, cracked, and deadly, quivered in delight. It let forth a moan, and all she could think of, was how he would have taunted her for being so afraid...his remarks would have given her courage. She lifted her gun and fired.

Two bullets were left.

The body didn't move, and inside the mansion, it was dark, and full of shadows. She wanted to see if someone would be there, someone who would offer her answers for her question. How's gifted why's...nightmares, hopefully little more than a misunderstood truth. She stepped past the threshold, the body unmoving, and continued on, until there was a glint of something slimy. It wiggled, it squirmed, and she could not help but see the way it's deathly silver trail of slime shimmered, as it seemed to hide from her. She lifted her gun and fired a shot.

There was no leech...and alas, only one bullet remained.

She heard the unearthly moan from the creature as it stood...it was not dead after all. With terror, she could not help but tremble as it stumbled forward, the bullets in its body were not enough to keep it from finding its treasure, even if the woman could run away from it. Teetering slowly forward, it held out its hands, and it let forth a sickening sound from deep within its gut. A plea to satiated. A cry to be joined. Begging, in a way that only she would ever understand, even if the man was no longer a man. Even, if his eyes, that rolled into the back of his head, never truly saw her again.

"Alright Billy." Rebecca told the undead creature in front of her. "You win." She dropped her gun, and it discharged. "I'm here now."

No bullets remained.


End file.
